Avalon
by LePetitDuchess
Summary: "Don't do this, Alfred!" The boy looked down at him sadly, "My name isn't Alfred. Not anymore. That person is...dead. My name is Mordred. And the next time we meet, we'll be enemies. Don't you forget that." Oh Alfred...if I had...If Arthur had understood. Had he seen the horrible things going on in your mind, could this tragedy have been avoided? [Camelot AU]
1. Thy Gift, Thy Tables, Are Within

**A/N (PLEASE READ THIS FOR A SEC KAY?) I should be working on other, older things instead of working on new things. I should, but I did it anyway. So here you go. Just to warn you ahead of time, this will not strictly follow the King Arthur legend. I'm just taking certain elements from the story...and then making it up as I go along. So try not to yell at me when you see that not everybody is who they should be and I'm not writing like the legend goes etc. etc. Because screw it, I'm going to write this and it's going to be a plot that I like. And I hope you like it too. Except I didn't cut it at all so this is going to be really freaking long. Fudgesickles.**

**Special thanks to: Izanami no Utau, you were my first reader for this and helped me smooth over some kinks and insecurities and frankly, dealing with my shit. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH! **

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_**Avalon**_

**Chapter 1: Thy Gift, Thy Tables, are Within my Brain **

_King Arthur Pendragon was truly, the greatest man who had ever lived. He was hailed as the messiah for his work in driving out the barbaric Saxons and unifying the kingdom of heaven under his steady hand. Among all the war and suffering that plagued this world, a land of peace and prosperity was created, one that valued justice and order above all else. But as with all kingdoms, there were those who sought to take power for themselves. The accursed traitor, Mordred, attempted to overthrow the great king in his thirst for power and war. He desired the queen, the throne, the country, so that he may take the world. _

_At his side stood the witch, Morgan Le Fay. She rained plagues and disaster upon the good people of the kingdom. For a time, it seemed all had been lost during the Battle of Camlann. The detestable traitor may have disappeared, but King Arthur and his knights were nowhere to be seen. In the king's absence, the sorceress stole the throne and ruled the people with an iron fist. But this dark time passed quickly as the valiant king-_

At this point, the 'Great' King Arthur could read no more. He sighed, placing the tome onto his desk and taking out his quill. He had not even passed the first page before chancing upon mistake over mistake. He nearly broke the delicate feather in half, furious at the praises and insults so casually written within an everyday schoolbook text. This was not the truth. He was not great. And Mordred was not a traitor.

The man looked behind him, smiling fondly at the small child sleeping at his desk. The energetic boy must have tired himself out, running about the library as he did. He was a sweet child, a little rowdy at times that belied his fragile appearance, but a good child nonetheless. He looked over to his wife, quietly knitting in the corner. Things had been rather tense…between them for a while, but they had soon gotten over it, becoming closer than ever. Perhaps he would join her now that his son was asleep. The boy never really did appreciate the merit in stitching.

But not now. He had something he had to do. So he went back to his work, trying to read through the text once more.

_But this dark time passed quickly as the valiant king and his brave knights arose from the ashes. With swords like thunder and hearts of steel, the men liberated the kingdom from the vile witch-" _

He groaned. How could anyone write such malarkey in _his _kingdom and have it passed as a 'good' compilation of their history? He reminded himself to find the author, this…Duchess. The queen looked up at him, a concerned expression on her face. He waved her away. She need not worry about this. Besides, it was something he wanted to do. Wanted to write before he forgot…before anyone forgot.

But it looked like he would have to start from scratch. He pulled out some paper and ink, preparing himself for the long nights and blackened fingers that came from a writer's hard work.

_King Arthur was not great. He was neither exemplary nor amazing. It was the people he surrounded himself with that were so valiant, so brave. He eventually grew into his own niche, becoming the man that everyone thought him to be. But he was not perfect, nor a practical god as many of his citizens liked to think of him. No. He was not the extraordinary one. That title fell down to someone else…that title fell to Alfred. _

_So where did this go wrong? Where did that peace that the previous king, Uther Pendragon, leave behind disappear to? Well, it all started many, many years ago, starting when King Arthur was simply Prince Arthur, another roguish prince who stalked the ghettos for fun with his most loyal subjects._

_..._

* * *

_..._

"Bloody wanker, you nearly got us killed!" a fourteen-year old Arthur screeched. His cousin laughed again in that infuriating voice of his.

"Ohonhonhon, but I saw you smiling back there _mon petit_. Admit you had fun!" Francis said, "Of course, I could show you a better time if you wished…" he added, leering.

The young prince punched him straight in the jaw. He didn't care at all if the damned bastard got caught and was whipped. In fact, he would be sitting there in the front row, drinking tea and laughing while he was at it. When they finally vaulted over another few sets of roofs, probably waking the poor occupants up, they managed to lose their pursuers and were allowed to catch their breath. Arthur looked back down at the necklace he and his fool of a cousin had gone to such lengths to steal. Stupid bloody dare. Stupid bloody Gilbert. Stupid bloody drinking tolerance. Never again would he touch alcohol. Stealthily climbing over the castle walls and dropping into the garden, they met up with the others.

"Artie! You're back!" A young ten-year old Alfred came running over, and clung to his legs. "I knew you could do it, but Gil didn't believe me!"

The albino bastard himself swaggered over to them, "Not bad Artie." He swiped the necklace from the blonde teen and turned it over in his hands, "Kesese, I take it back then! You have some backbone after all." The albino slapped him harshly on the shoulder, nearly making the young prince buckle, "I'll be making a thief out of you yet!"

Rubbing his sore shoulder, he kicked the fool in the shins, "Bloody idiot! I am never listening to any of your suggestions ever again you fool of a guard! How dare you call yourself a man!" He then rounded on Antonio who was still trying to pry the little boy clinging to Arthur's legs. "And you! You're supposed to be watching Alfred, why on earth is he here and not asleep?!"

The brunet sighed, "But Alfred couldn't sleep, he said he was waiting to win his bet with Lovi!" His eyes got this glazed look at the mention of Alfred's attendant.

Alfred pulled away and put his arms in front of the guard defensively, "I wanted to come and see you Artie!" The boy stuck out his lower lip in that famous pout of his with those big puppy eyes, "A-and I can't sleep. I was worried…"

The crown prince sighed, "Another nightmare? Come here you." He picked up the small boy. Some would say he should stop spoiling him, but how could he not? He was young and fragile and oh so tiny. Even Lovino doted on him, albeit in his own grudging and cursing way. But then he furrowed his incredibly thick eyebrows to glare at the idiot trio standing before him.

"So did ya get to bang her while you were at it?" Gilbert said to Francis, still eyeing the necklace with interest. Were all knights-in-training assholes and perverts? Probably. Antonio being the only one actually close to an exception.

"Oho, of course I did! Right while Arthur was busy-"

Arthur kicked the Frenchman in the shins, "Bastard! So that was what your damn distraction was?"

"Ack! What else am I to do when there is a beautiful woman patting her bed and smiling at me so lovingly?" Then he got a familiar glint in his eyes, "Unless you were jealous _mon petit_? Fear not! How could I ever deny a prince-" Francis really should have seen the upcoming kick. Should have seen it coming and taken it like a man instead of whining like the sad little frog he was.

After some cursing that he probably shouldn't have said in a child's presence, Arthur finally let up on the bastard's punishment. But he'd be damned if he said that out loud because the frog would probably take it the wrong way. "Can we go to bed now?" Alfred said innocently, big blue eyes shining up at him.

"Oh my Arthur I did not know you were into…that," Francis leered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Even with a black eye he was still making those kinds of comments. Arthur cracked his knuckles and the teenager took a careful step back.

"You're so whipped aren't ya Artie!" Gilbert cackled, before patting the blue-eyed boy on the head. "Sweet dreams kid, don't be too much of a brat like your boring bro here. Be more like the awesome me!"

Arthur scowled, "Get your grubby hands off of my brother you-"

Antonio slapped a hand over the prince's mouth and pushed them all behind a bush. Just as he was about to shout and yell at such man handling, he quieted quickly at the older teen's warning face. The other two followed, staying as still and as quiet as possible. The head guard, Alistair Ector, came waltzing out from the barracks, drunk as usual. He walked about the garden, swinging his sword here and there.

"Where are ya, ya brats! Din't I tell yous not to be out late? Now git!" he yelled at a bush, whacking it mercilessly. Thank god Alistair was the stupid drunk and not the dangerous kind because the man was crazy enough sober.

As quietly as possible, they slipped inside the castle through the servants' quarters. Saying goodbye to Gilbert and Francis, which is to say he gave them each a loving kick, he walked with Antonio back to Alfred's room. Or the knight-in-training stayed with him until he caught sight of Lovino. He gave a bunch of spluttered excuses before, with a sigh, the prince turned him loose. The brunet immediately assaulted the attendant with hugs and kisses. The prince was forced to place a hand over Alfred's pure eyes and he slammed the door against the odd couple. This is why he constantly complained that the servants, especially personal ones, needed their own rooms. Because goddamn it if he stepped in on one more make-out session between those two…

"Artie, will you tell me a story?" his little brother whispered as he was being tucked in.

"Not today, love, it's late," the messy blonde said, patting the boy on the head.

"B-but, it always keeps away the nightmares! Pleeaaase? Tell me about Pirate Kirkland!" Arthur sighed when the boy clung to his arm, staring at him with those bright eyes. "Pretty please?" The boy always knew how to pull his strings.

"Alright then." He smiled when the boy cheered and eagerly sat up to hear the adventures of the valiant pirate. Looking at the boy, so carefree and bright, it was hard to believe he was weighed down with such an awful ability.

Upon finishing the tale of the kraken and how Kirkland defeated it with his faithful unicorn, Mr. Bubbles, Alfred began to grow sleepy. He tucked the boy in, pulling the covers up to his chin. As he did so the boy asked him one more thing.

"Artie…is there anyone out on the seas that protects Kirkland?" the boy asked sleepily, yawning in the most adorable fashion.

Arthur hummed a bit, "Hmm, no. Kirkland is the strongest pirate there is out there, he's the one that does the protecting silly."

"That's sad." Arthur looked at the boy, surprised.

"Oh, and why is that?"

The boy yawned again, struggling with sleep, "B-because, if he's always saving people, who's gonna save him?"

Arthur was at a loss at what to say for a moment and spluttered, "W-why would he ever need saving? Kirkland's the strongest there is. He doesn't need help." But Alfred had already fallen asleep. Sighing, the crown prince kissed his younger brother on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Alfred."

...

* * *

...

_Every member of the royal family was more or less blessed with a gift, some more useful than others and some more like curses than blessings. Alfred was no different. Unlike Arthur, who had been blessed with an affinity to magical creatures and spell-casting, Alfred had been cursed with the ability to see the future. It was a power he could not control and the poor boy was often plagued day and night with ghastly visions of the future. He spoke little of what he saw, trying to hold in the horrors of the future, but he cried often, clinging to his brother and attendants for support. _

_For the boy's own sake, his powers were sealed. Surely, such a thing would drive anyone to insanity. Merlin, the king's advisor and sorcerer, ensured that the boy would be safe and taught to harness his prophetic abilities. But until then, it would be better for the safety of both Alfred and all those around him, to place this power under wraps. _

_And so, with the sealing of his powers, Alfred began to grow. No longer did he cry in the night or act like a young maiden made of glass. No, the boy grew up to be strong. He began to show himself a talented swordsman like no other and his abilities as a craftsman were unmatched of those his age. This, of course, led to an inflated ego and all the immaturities of brash young princes. But he was still a good child at heart. Arthur loved him truly._

_..._

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_..._

Arthur had just turned sixteen when he was betrothed to Guinevere. They despised each other on sight. It was a match made in heaven, as King Uther had described it. His wife, Queen Igraine, made no complaints either. It wasn't like they could change it. Princess Guinevere was of the rivaling kingdom. Her marriage to Arthur would help cement peace relations and trade options between the two. It didn't matter if the two got along like oil and water, they were going to be married and that was final. He had some time though. When he was eighteen and ascended to the throne he would then be married. But he dreaded that day now. As much as he would love to take after his father, he could not, would not, marry that witch.

He told Merlin, his tutor, as such. The old man simply laughed at him before patting his shoulder reassuringly. There was a reason why many kings had consorts after all… Arthur later gagged on the thought, imagining what it would be like if his own father had had his own harem. It would be a bloody battlefield of petticoats and nails.

That aside, in order to relieve the obvious frustration, he went outside to go spar. Currently, he was having the shit beat out of him by Alistair. "Form up brat. I don't care if yer the king hisself, I'll beat ya soundly if ye don't shape up!"

Arthur scowled. So maybe sparring with the grumpiest knight of all time wasn't the best way to relieve stress. "I'm doing the best I can you bloody bastard!"

"That's nowhere close 'nough! An ol' lady would do betta than you!" Then Alistair soundly slapped the sword out of the prince's hands. He then tripped the frustrated teen, forcing him to fall back onto his bottom. In the background, Yao could be seen tutting lightly at his performance. Next to him stood Francis' squire and brother…what was his name again? Anyways the boy was holding a white teddy bear to his face, not being able to watch the one-sided spar.

After the third humiliating defeat, Alistair decided to stop. "That's 'nough for ya. This ain't gonna go any betta if yer head's in a ditch, come back tomorrah when ye've cleaned up, brat." And he waltzed off to the barracks, probably off to get drunk again.

Sulking, Arthur didn't get up, choosing to lie down on the dusty training grounds and glare at the sky.

"It is not good for a prince to lay on the ground all day _aru_," Yao said, leaning over him, his long hair trailing down to tickle the blonde's nose.

"I will do what I damn will like! If a prince wants to roll around in the filth than do it he shall," Arthur snapped, rolling over on his side.

A soft voice sighed, "Your highness…you can't stay here forever..." When…Matthew (that was his name!) saw the prince roll over again he played the card that always got him, "Alfred said he was waiting for you in the study."

"Alfred?" Arthur shot up at attention before quickly trying to pretend to be angry again, "Why should I care what that wanker wants? All he ever does is act like a bloody annoyance every second of the day!"

Yao and Matthew shared a look. The dark-haired teen sighed before flicking the young prince on the forehead, "You are not a very good liar _aru_." He whistled and from the bushes popped out a panda, carrying a small table with a lacquerware set. The teen then produced a pillow from his voluminous sleeves, sitting down with legs primly set under him. "Tea is good for the soul, you should take some to relax _aru_."

"I'm not in the mood for tea right now-" Arthur stopped when the cute fuzzy panda growled at him, showing off a set of pearly incisors. "Or I could have tea now, tea would be nice!" he amended quickly. The panda soon reverted back to its cute, seemingly harmless self. They all sat down at the small table, sitting patiently and quietly as the little panda served them all tea. Once done, the black and white animal jumped back into the bushes. Honestly the animals that the castle let in these days…

"Shinatty-chan, thank you. You're so reliable, unlike a certain little duck…" The Oriental man trailed off angrily before slumping his shoulders. "Why? I always took care of him and now he doesn't respect me at all _aru_! Ahhh, Kiku why don't you listen to your _gē_ _gē!?" _The Orient whined, throwing his head onto the table. "I even saved you and brought you here but you don't even try to understand!" Wait a second, weren't they supposed to be comforting him a second ago?

"Erm, I'm sorry?" the crown prince said awkwardly, patting the other on the shoulder.

Yao suddenly shot straight up, grabbing the prince's shoulders suddenly. "And that is why you must cherish the admiration your _xiǎodì _gives you," the teen said sagely, his face showing no sign of previous distress. The older teen picked up his cup, peering at the young prince with wisdom beyond his years, "Don't worry about the marriage _aru._ When the wind of change blows, some build walls, others build windmills."

"Pardon me?"

Yao huffed before speaking slowly, as if to a small, insipid child, "You will get used to change." Then the Orient began grumbling in that odd language of his. Arthur only caught a few words like 'idiot' and 'stupid'.

"Um, your highness?" Arthur jumped, having forgotten Matthew had sat down with them. "Um, Arthur, I'm sure it'll be fine. What Yao is trying to say is well…we're here for you, so when things go funny you can rely on us." In that instant, Arthur felt horribly guilty for ignoring the timid boy. Unlike his bastard of a brother, he was a good child, innocent and pure. Probably the only person, aside from Kiku, that was a good influence on the Alfred.

The prince coughed awkwardly, touched by the statement, "Ah, well yes, of course. Thank you…" Now what was his name again? "Matthew! Yes, thank you Matthew." The boy, not having any idea of Arthur's temporary lapse, beamed. Then the boy's expression dropped.

"Weren't you supposed to go see Merlin right about now?" the bespectacled boy asked, pointing up at the sky.

The prince twitched, "Shit! Bloody hell, I'll be off then!" The two waved him goodbye and he ran straight into the castle. The last time he had been late to one of their study sessions Merlin had made him fly. Out the third story window. With nothing but a broom and some string. He shuddered and ran even faster. He didn't get very far before he bumped into Gilbert.

"Yo, eyebrows!" The prince twitched at the nickname. His eyebrows were perfectly normal, they were not bushy! They were just…big in comparison to everyone else's bloody, nonexistent ones! Ignoring the angry prince, the albino man tossed him a bottle, "Thought this might cheer you up since you look like shit. Better thank me for awesomely snagging it later _kleiner Mistkerl_."

"Shut up! And when did I tell you to not call me that? I'll have you flogged!" The knight rolled his eyes and put on a evil grin that said he was going to keep pestering the poor prince. That is, until a certain, pan-wielding scullery maid's voice boomed down the hall.

"GILBERT!"

The albino man's eyes widened comically, "_Schiebe_, see ya Artie!" And he ran off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Arthur groaned. Why did no one respect his authority around here? He swore it was all Alfred's fault. The little bugger never punished his attendants properly, always giving them far too much freedom than he should. Damn squirt, his ego was growing larger with each passing day. What happened to the small and sweet boy he used to know?

As he turned the corner, he saw Elizabeta, cursing up a storm that rivaled even Lovino's infamous temper tantrums.

"Arthur!" He shrank back at the scullery maid's livid expression, "Have you seen Gil? I've always told him not to fuck around when I'm cooking…" the woman trailed off threateningly, before swinging around her frying pan and taking a good chunk off a nearby wall. She then sniffed the air like a bloodhound, before smiling viciously, "I found you…" She walked off, completely ignoring him. The prince wasted no time in getting out of her way. Servant or no, the woman was absolutely terrifying. Being a former knight trainee and Alistair's prodigy was probably one of the reasons.

Jesus, why couldn't they have normal servants? His father's cheerful voice then echoed through his mind.

_But that would be boring Arthur. A king without excitement is a no-good king! _

Uther was probably the one Alfred inherited his childishness and immaturity from. They were both insufferable. Then he remembered that he was late again and he set off running.

While he dreaded being late and the possible punishment that came with it, he was also quite excited. Alfred had practically been begging to have him teach him about magic again, something he had not done in a while. Now that he was older he seemed to have found clinging to his older brother too 'uncool' as he put it. Now he was trying to be more independent, and his natural talent only encouraged that. So yes, Arthur was excited that his brother had finally decided to depend on him.

While the boy excelled in all things physical, Arthur was a master at all things magical being second only to Merlin. He may not be a full-time sorcerer, but he was bloody good at quite a few spells if he did say so himself.

As soon as he opened the door he was immediately assaulted by a certain blonde imp. "Damn it, Alfred! Control yourself!" he screeched, boxing the enthusiastic boy on the ear.

"Ow! Man, Iggy that hurt!" the boy whined, rubbing his sore ear.

"At least call me Artie for God's sakes!" Arthur scolded.

He hated being called Iggy. If only because Francis had given him the name when he caught Arthur talking to one of the fairies named Iggy. It was not his bloody fault that Francis couldn't see them! Damn frog was too filthy to so much as whiff such magnificent creatures. Saying just that led to the damned knight calling him crazy. Which thus ended in a legendary fistfight that ended in the south wing of the library being destroyed and forever erasing plum pudding from the castle's menu.

"But I wanna call you Iggy, Iggy!"

"Git!" He grabbed the boy and put him in a headlock, "Today is the last day you'll dare defy me!"

"I'll never give in! A hero never, ever gives in!" And the boy leaned back, forcing them both to fall over. Climbing on top of Arthur, practically straddling him, he began mercilessly tickling the elder teen's sides. "Yield villain! The hero always wins!"

Arthur quickly rolled over, turning the tables, "Not if the hero is against the king!" He began his own tickle attack, "Surrender boy! You'll never win against his royal majesty, the king of England!" Alfred was laughing so hard he could barely make a coherent sentence. Finally the king-to-be let up, letting his brother collect himself.

The boy smiled brightly at him, before pouting, "That wasn't fair! You're still taller than me!"

Alfred promptly got up and placed a book on the elder sibling's head. Then he began to lean on it, "Grow shorter!"

Arthur scoffed, "That's an oxymoron, git. And don't you know that's impossible?" The boy simply laughed.

"You won't be laughing when it works! You'll see, one day I'll be even taller than you!"

"Now, now boys settle down." The two immediately stopped their roughhousing to sit still at the appearance of their mentor. He was getting old, and the way he leaned on his staff more heavily than usual worried Arthur. As if sensing his eyes, the sorcerer tightened the cloak around his neck and pushed his hood back to smile reassuringly at the two. "Alfred, my boy, go and do an old man a favor and get those books from the table for me?"

"On it, sir! It's nothing a hero can't handle!" And he ran off. Merlin, instead of taking a chair, chose to sit cross-legged on the library floor with them.

"Merlin, here let me-"

The old man waved his hand dismissively, "Oh don't worry about me Arthur. Old I may be but I don't need to be babied every step of the way. How is your betrothal coming along?"

Arthur's good mood immediately evaporated, "Positively dreadful. She's completely insufferable, I can hardly believe that she-dragon can be called a princess!" he ranted.

The old man chuckled, "Bah, you'll get used to her soon enough. Who knows? She may surprise you in the future!"

"More like make a mockery of this kingdom and spend every last penny on clothes she'll never wear," the crown prince grumbled. Sighing the teen put his head in his hands. "Can it really be so soon? Only two more years of freedom and then the kingdom is my burden to bear." Arthur felt those insecurities bubbling inside of him again. Could he really do this? Honestly, all the expectations for him to be just as good, nay – better, than his father were starting to get to him.

Merlin gave him a hard chop to the head.

"Ow, what in blazes- Merlin!" Arthur squawked indignantly. The old man chuckled quietly, before looking at him with the utmost seriousness as he stroked his long, grey beard.

"Don't you dare doubt yourself Arthur, it's unbecoming of a king. Only do what you think is right. And above all else, remember you are not alone." Arthur, while still aching from the hit, smiled gratefully at his mentor. "There's that smile! Now, go be a good king and make me some tea."

Arthur snorted, "I believe you said you didn't need to be babied, or are you so senile you've forgotten?"

The sorcerer subsequently whacked him with his staff, before clearing his throat, "A king should learn some humility! By making me some tea."

Grumbling the prince got up only to see Alfred come running no, flying in on a book cart with the librarian's assistant, Kiku. "Outta the way Iggy!" At the last second, Arthur managed to sidestep the cart, wincing when the two boys crashed into the wall. Poor Kiku looked as if he had been traumatized. And it seemed that Alfred had broken yet another pair of spectacles. Wonderful.

The raven-haired boy bowed deeply, "_Sumimasen_, Merlin-dono, Arthur-dono, for the interruption. But Alfred-sama and I believed this would be a good idea. I will take responsibility."

Arthur sighed, "No need Kiku," He rounded on Alfred, "Wanker, what did you think you were doing? Dragging the poor boy into this?"

"What? We got all the books here didn't we? Don't be such a party pooper!" Then Alfred smiled conspiratorially with Kiku, "Besides, I'm the hero, and every hero needs a sidekick! Right Kiku?"

The boy smiled shyly, "Of course, Alfred-sama."

"Jeez, just call me Alfred already!" the boy laughed before getting up, seemingly not injured by the rough crash. Merlin laughed as well, patting Arthur on the shoulder when he moved to scold the young boy again. Of course, he couldn't hold the prince back when the younger boy spoke again, "Oh, and if you're getting tea Iggy, get me a cup with lots of sugar! And get Kiku one too!"

Arthur smacked the boy up the head. "You little git! I'm not getting you anything! Don't ever do something so stupid like that ever again!"

"You can't tell me what to do!" Alfred snapped back, not giving a care when Arthur's face turned red.

"I bloody well can you little brat! Now you go get the tea yourself!"

The little bugger smirked, "Make me!"

Merlin simply laughed at it all as the crown prince proceeded to chase after his careless younger brother.

A pity the sorcerer would never get the tea he asked for.

…

…

Dinner was a stiff, formal affair. They were sitting in the private dining room with a much smaller table to accommodate the few guests eating that day. The king and queen chatted lightly, but the atmosphere was rather heavy. It was made worse by the fact that Arthur had to sit right in front of that monster that was supposed to be a woman. She laughed shrilly at all of the King's bad jokes and puns, while pretending to be completely engrossed in what the Queen had to say. But when no one spoke, the two of them glared at each other from across the table.

Alfred, of course, was completely oblivious to the psychological warfare being waged between the betrothed and went on with eating as usual. "So _Arthur_," the name sounded like an insult coming from her mouth, "I have to say I saw you out on the training grounds this afternoon. You have such…_splendid_ swordsmanship." The tone in her voice indicated exactly otherwise.

"Why thank you," Arthur said tightly, "I have to say I was not quite myself however, as I was thinking only of your…fascinating face." The girl's expression grew colder and the crown prince smirked. Score one for Arthur.

"Oh don't be modest my boy!" the king said, patting his son roughly on the head, "You see, my dear, Arthur here is the best in the castle! He could give old Alistair down there a run for his money, or his beer, whichever one he wants to bet on!" the king added, laughing loudly as ever. Let it be known that King Uther was not the quietest, nor the most tactful of all kings.

"Ah yes, Arthur is quite the talented boy. I have no worries for when he will become king, I'm sure he will take good care of you as well, my dear," the queen said, her voice placating. His mother was a subtle one, always the peacemaker she was. Perhaps this was why she was sent often on foreign relations more than Arthur's father.

The bitch immediately switched tactics, "Of course…I couldn't possibly doubt your son and his abilities!"

"Doubting his abilities?" The king snorted in a much undignified manner, "Oh yes, Arthur is capable, but you're going to have to bear with him. He's a bit of a bore sometimes; do forgive him if he's too boorish for you," the man then winked at Alfred. The boy blinked, before giving his father the thumbs up. Watching the exchange, Arthur couldn't help but worry. Those two never got into anything but trouble.

His mother seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she rang for the servants to bring out dessert. The table was filled with various cakes and fruits, and being the little pig he was, Alfred devoured them. Arthur made no move to initiate conversation again, deciding to stab his scones violently and continue glaring at the woman before him. She was ignoring him, eating her cake soundly. As if finally feeling the tense atmosphere, the king coughed, "Ah well, Guinevere my dear, I do hope you'll stay the night, perhaps get to know our good Arthur here and become more acquainted with the castle?"

The girl paled for a bit, her jaw clenching before replying in a tight voice, "I-I'm afraid I couldn't possibly intrude upon your hospitality, your highness-"

"Please call me Uther! We're to be family someday after all!" The king patted her roughly on the shoulder while Arthur gagged at the thought of having such a relationship with a she-dragon. He shouldn't have looked away, or else he would have seen the mischievous glint in the king's eyes.

"Now, dear you're scaring the poor girl…" Igraine said warningly, putting a hand over her husband's.

"Oh, if she can handle Arthur here I'm sure she can handle a bit of paternal love!" He smiled impishly, "We might as well get the tension out while we're here right?" Before anyone could say anything, the king, the bloody king of England, put one foot on the table, picked up a cake in each hand and smashed it in the princess' and the prince's faces.

So much for peaceful relations. "So we might as well duke it out while the two of you are young right?" Igraine face-palmed while Alfred laughed, nodding his head enthusiastically.

"Duke it out? Duke it out?" Guinevere repeated slowly, as she numbly scraped the cake off her face.

"It means 'to settle things' in case you don't know. But I suppose a dingbat like you couldn't have possibly known that," Arthur said acerbically, wiping off the cream on his face. Of course, as soon as he did, more of the puffy pastries were thrown at him.

"You insufferable prick! I've been nothing but polite to you and then you throw everything into my face!" the girl screeched, picking up a bowl of cherries. She was immediate assaulted by scones.

"Polite? Is that what you call making sparkly eyes at all my knights and oh-so-subtly sniping how I'm nothing like them? Sorry to break it to you love, but you're stuck with me!"

"Oh you wretched, stiff little-"

The king laughed heartily at the exchange, only to be slapped harshly by his wife.

"You imbecile," the blonde-haired woman hissed, "How could you? We were supposed to make things better between them, not worse!"

Uther pretended to be confounded, "What do you mean? I am helping them get along! Best to get their differences settled when they're young right? If they blow up later, who knows what state the kingdom could be in times ahead?" In response, the queen picked up her platter and dumped its contents all over her husband's head.

"There are more dignified ways of going about it, and a food fight is not one of them," the woman said coldly, she tried to march off, but the king grabbed her wrist. He quickly pulled her into his lap and kissed her soundly, beard still covered in cream and syrup.

"Oh, lighten up! The other ways are no fun at all!" Needless to say Igraine quickly joined in on beating her husband soundly in the mess.

Arthur was currently ducking behind his chair, avoiding a great slice of cherry pie aimed at his head, "You she-witch! Why don't you go along with your harpy ways and leave us all be?"

"It's not like I wanted to be married to an eyebrow monster!" she screamed, throwing a whole platter of macaroons, much to Alfred's dismay.

"You take that back!"

"Never!"

"Beaver girl! You look like a beaver with those gigantic teeth, beaver girl!"

Looking over the chair, he saw the girl turn beet red. "I am not!" But she covered her mouth all the same when she said, as if to hide those great buck teeth from sight. And she pulled at her messy brown locks self-consciously. Just when Arthur was taking the opportunity to throw a large slice of lemon custard, the remains of a strawberry parfait came flying to his face.

Rubbing himself down and spluttering, he looked up to see the harpy doing the same, only trying to get the remains of peach tartlet out of her hair. Standing on the table and laughing triumphantly for all to see, was Alfred. The boy was armed with a slingshot and a bowl full of candied figs. "Beware evildoers of delicious desserts! For I, Alfred Pendragon, am here to vanquish you!" In a few smooth strokes, he hit every single occupant in the room with a fig. Then the boy did a backflip to hide behind his chair, avoiding the return fire. "Hahaha, you'll never get the hero!"

As Arthur and Guinevere were enduring a hailstorm of candied figs, they formed a sort of alliance and together they ran through to drop a whole bowl of custard all over the loud boy's head.

Seeing the dismayed boy's face, Arthur smirked, "Better luck next time, hero."

"Oh I'll show you!" Alfred subsequently tackled his older brother and the two mucked about on the filthy carpet until Arthur, deciding to indulge the boy for once, yielded.

As he was getting up, Arthur saw Guinevere chuckle good-naturedly. It was neither fake nor scornful, it was simply pure laughter. Smiling to himself, he supposed maybe this engagement wouldn't go so badly after all…

...

* * *

...

_Arthur's engagement didn't go well. In fact, nothing went well in the following years. The barbarians from the South came charging in, intent on invading the country and taking it for themselves. The king was one of their first victims, fighting of the beasts till the very end in order to protect his precious citizens. The queen followed soon after, killing herself when she was captured in order to avoid revealing sensitive information. With such shocking news, the marriage was postponed and the country was in a state of emergency. _

_Merlin was the one who came up with a plan first, seeing the inexperienced Arthur still in shock after his parents' gruesome deaths. He was to go to the isles of Avalon, the legendary island where he would locate the holy sword Excalibur. With this and only this, would Arthur truly drive away these barbarians from their great country. As the sorcerer prepared for his perilous journey to the forbidden land, Arthur, with a heavy heart, went off to war. _

_Yet he refused to take Alfred with him, the boy being only fourteen at the time. It was an argument that was the source of a great rift between them. But Arthur, could not, would not, lose the one most precious person on this wretched Earth. Not again. _

...

* * *

...

He stood there in front of his parents' tomb in the rain. Arthur didn't bother using his parasol. The rain was calming, soothing. He wanted to run away, run away from all of it. He didn't want to see their pitying faces, he didn't want to hear their pained cries, and most of all, he didn't want to hear them call his name. Because he didn't know what to do. King? Him? He could barely get any of his own servants in line. How could he even dare to command an army and much less win a single battle let alone a war?

But despite his obvious inexperience, he was forced to lead. Merlin would be departing tomorrow and, in a few days, so would Arthur.

War. A term so foreign he could hardly believe it himself. But it was a chance to prove himself, a chance to get the revenge his entire being screamed for.

"Arthur," a sad voice said in the background, "We have to go inside, if you get sick then who's going to lead the troops?" He looked down at Alfred, bedraggled and sleep-deprived. The boy had been having nightmares the past few days.

"Go inside Alfred. I'll be there in a minute." But Alfred didn't go. He stood there with him in the rain.

"Why? Why can't I go with you?" the boy asked quietly.

"Alfred go inside." He wouldn't speak of this matter anymore. It had already been settled.

"I want to get them too," the boy said viciously, "I want revenge too Arthur! I'm not a kid-"

"Alfred, go inside, now," Arthur said softly, but even his dense little brother could hear the warning in it.

"But Arthur, I can fight! I want to fight! I can-"

Alfred fell onto the ground, shocked that Arthur had slapped him. "This isn't a game you idiot! This is war! You can't become the hero this time, so just listen for Christ's sake and go to your room!" he yelled.

The boy got up, hurt. And in that instant, Arthur immediately regretted what he had done. He reached out for him. He shouldn't have…he shouldn't have hit him. Because Arthur wasn't the only one hurting. "Alfred…Alfred I'm sor-"

The boy pushed him away, wiping his face before glaring defiantly at him. "I hate you, Arthur." He then ran off into the castle. Arthur was speechless. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak. He sat there in the numbing rain, letting his clothes weigh him down. As he stood there staring at the ground, staring at the place where his parents had gone and could not follow, a hand touched his shoulder.

"Arthur, it is time we went inside. The council awaits," Francis said softly. "Come now Arthur, you cannot stay out here forever."

"I can and will," he said in a small, stubborn voice.

And then the junior knight did something unexpected. He hugged him. Arthur was so shocked that he didn't even try to push the blonde man away. "Arthur, _mon roi_, do not fret. Alfred will get over it, he will understand." The knight let go, and led his newly appointed king to the castle. "I know it hurts, that it is hard. But remember, we are here for you. Me, Matthieu, everyone, so do not cry _mon amie." _

The prince, no, the king pushed him away, sniffling a bit. Just a bit. "It is a poor state of affairs indeed if a frog has to comfort me," Arthur bit out, but he wiped his eyes furiously. He steeled himself, straightening his posture, "Call all the men here. Call all of them here."

The knight gave him an odd look, but seeing the light in his eyes he nodded. "Very well," Francis acquiesced, going inside. When all his subjects were in the royal cemetery, standing in front of his parents' grave, he gathered their attention. Everyone was there, from the troublesome trio of knights and their colleagues, to the servants and squires. All of them had a downcast slump to their shoulders. With a stab of guilt, he realized it was because of him. If a leader despairs at his misfortune, so will his followers.

They all looked up at him, not a single one complaining of being brought out into the pouring rain. He ignored the pitying stares and the ones still in mourning. Walking up to stand at the top of the steps to his parents' mausoleum, he spoke, "A great evil has descended upon us as well as a great tragedy. King Uther and Queen Igraine are dead, and the barbarians have risen once more."

A solemn silence. All of his subjects looked down onto the muddy ground, fists held to their chests and some with silent tears running down their cheeks. "But are we to stand here and cry?" They looked up, the prince appearing calmer than they had ever seen him. "Are we to allow them to destroy our homes, our families, our lives? Will we allow my father's sacrifice, my mother's death to go in vain?"

"Never!" they yelled in unison.

"Then raise your swords up! For this means war! We will avenge them, we will avenge every single brother who had fallen at the hands of these beasts! Gather every man and every woman, every elder and every child! Let us show these barbarians what we Britons are made of!" He pulled out his sword and raised it up high, "For England!"

"For England!" they cheered back.

"All hail King Arthur!" a lone person in the audience roared. Searching the crowd, he saw Gilbert smirking. His arm was wrapped around his brother, Ludwig, who gave him a respectful nod.

And soon, the rest of the crowd raised up whatever they had, pitchforks, frying pans, swords, shields, he even thought he saw a pole with a pair of blindingly white bloomers attached to the end. "All hail King Arthur!" Looking into their eyes now, Arthur saw a grim determination, a fire that he had not seen before. For a second, his heavy heart lifted. But searching the crowd, he could not find Alfred. And that was enough to drop it once more.

But he held his head high. For his people, he could at least pretend to be strong.

…

* * *

_..._

**It was gonna happen either way because I wanted it that way Arthur. I've always wondered what it'd be like if Alfred played for the other team. And I don't mean that sexually. ****I still don't know if there will be slash. I mean, aside from a little Spamano and Gerita in the back, I really don't. I really, really don't know. I'll just write whatever flows I guess.**

**Translations: (The hell do I know about French/German/Chinese/Japanese? Nothing that's what. So forgive me for the crappy translation or word choice, because I'm none of the four nationalities above nor do I know a speck of the language aside from what I picked up on the internet.) **

**mon petit - my dear**

**mon roi - my king**

**mon prince - my prince**

**mon amie - my friend**

**_gē_ _gē - _older brother**

**_xiǎodì - _younger brother**

**_kleiner Mistkerl - _little bastard**

**Bruder - brother**

**Schiebe - Shit**

**Sumimasen - I'm sorry **

**Continue? I think not. Just kidding. Let's see what happens, but for now, I'll be updating Witch of Sicily like I'm supposed to be doing.**


	2. Full Charactered With Lasting Memory

**This isn't an update. There really isn't anything new, I was just cutting the original chapter down because it was too long and I thought it'd be easier to chew this way. It was bothering me for awhile and I finally got around to doing it. So...here I guess...again. **

**Disclaimer: ...I am not Himaruya Hidekaz so therefore I don't own Hetalia. ...That's probably a good thing. **

* * *

**Chapter 2: Full Charactered With Lasting Memory**

…

During the days of their preparation, Arthur saw neither hide nor hair of Alfred. The boy had resolutely locked himself in his room and no one, not even Merlin, could get him out. If his goal was to make Arthur feel guilty, then he would wholeheartedly say he succeeded. But at the same time, he didn't regret his decision one bit. Alfred was too young, not even a man yet. He, at least, had reached the proper age.

Seeing him rather distraught, Elizabeta, the scullery maid, came up to him, "Don't worry Arthur-"

"That's your majesty now," Arthur corrected.

Needless to say she slapped him before continuing, "Like I was saying…Don't worry about Alfred, I'm sure he didn't mean it. So perk up! By the end of the week, I'm sure he'll come around."

Arthur didn't respond, choosing to sulk instead. "Hey, look there he goes now!" He sat up quickly, his head whipping left and right. No one. "He just left, but hey, no point in sitting around right?" Without even waiting for a reply she threw him out of the courtyard. As in threw him. Literally, straight through the door where Feliciano was waiting. As he lay there, back aching from being thrown so roughly, the nervous brunet stammered, "Ah, um hi there, your majesty…ve…." When the king continued to glare at him, the young chef added quickly, "A-ah, w-would you like some pasta, ve?"

Yao, who was taking notes from the fall earlier, leaned over, to see the fallen Arthur. "I have some special ointment that might help with the pain. Would you like to buy some, aru? Or you can experiment the new Elizabeta cream I'm making. Free of charge of course."

"I hate all of you."

…

…

On the day of their departure, Arthur searched high and low for Alfred. To no avail. With a determined mask and a despondent spirit, he marched his troops forward. But just as the castle was but a small speck in the distance, there was much yelling and screaming. Squinting, he could make out a tiny dust cloud parading straight through his troops and running right towards him. "Arthur!" Did he dare hope? "Arthur, you jerk!" And there he was. His little brother in the flesh. And taking another moment to drink the boy's face in, he realized his brother was here, on a horse, away from the castle.

His first instinct was to yell at him, of all things, "Alfred what in blazes are you doing out here? You're not coming I told you-"

Alfred groaned, "I know already, Jesus why do you always have to be such a party pooper?" Gilbert snickered quietly in the background. The boy pulled his horse next to his and passed to him a small drawstring pouch. "This is for you, you jerkface."

Arthur blinked, before slowly taking it. He was about to pocket it but the boy stared at him, eyes darting from the bag to his face. Open it, his face practically screamed. Sighing, Arthur did as he was telepathically told. He gasped when he did. Inside was a round little bead of the purest, brightest blue. In its center was a picture of the royal crest. Pulling it out and rolling the bead in his palm, he could feel a soft, pulsing wave of energy coursing through him. It felt calming, peaceful, like he had just taken a good cup of tea or reunited with a long lost friend. "Alfred this is-"

"Totally awesome right? It's a good luck charm Merlin taught me about. Praise me, you know you want to!" Alfred boasted, puffing out his chest proudly.

Arthur indulged him, "Alright you little git, it's amazing." Then he scowled, "Alistair just let you out on your own? When I get back I'm going to-"

"Going to do what, brat?" Speak of the devil, the redheaded man was here as well. He seemed out of breath and was scowling more than ever. Although this time his anger was directed at the younger prince, "Kid, I told ye to wait up. Yer going to get it when we get back. Thirty drills!" And he punched the boy right on the top of the head, giving him a good noogie while he was at it.

"OW! Artie do something!" Alfred wailed, covering his head.

Arthur crossed his arms, smirking, "It's your fault for running off you little bugger, I'm not doing anything."

"Traitor!"

"Not to interrupt this lovely reunion, but we must get going _mon roi_," Francis interjected, riding over. He ruffled Alfred's hair and leaned towards the boy, "Now give your favorite cousin a goodbye kiss~!"

Turns out Arthur didn't even have to punch Francis, as Antonio and Alistair both punched him right off of his horse.

"Ah, amigo, please remember that Alfred is my ward _cierto?_ No touching," Antonio said happily, although a dark aura was emanating from his presence.

On the other hand, Alistair hadn't even tried to hide his discontent behind a smile. "Keep yer dick inside o' yer pants pervert brat, before I cut it off for ya."

"_Quelle horreur!_ How could you aim for my beautiful face?" Receiving nothing but angry glares and cracking knuckles he stopped his bullshit routine. Getting back on his horse, he spoke to the young prince once more, "Alfred, please give my regards to Matthieu back home. Remember to kiss him on the forehead every night for me!"

"Uh sure?" His face clearly showing confusion as to why any boy his age would want that.

Arthur pushed away the knight to get to his brother again. "I'm glad you came to see me. But you have to go back. When…" He hesitated for a second. "When you are…of age, I will let you fight. But until then, please stay home. Understand?"

Alfred slumped his shoulders, "Yeah…" Then he brightened immediately, "After all a hero always comes late but just in the nick of time to save the day!"

"Of course Alfred." They hugged one last time and then set off. Just before they climbed over the next hill, Arthur looked back to see his brother again. The boy was still waving about enthusiastically to each knight that passed. As if sensing his gaze, Alfred looked up and waved at him. The king smiled, and turnedaway. He straightened his shoulders and moved forward with a new resolve.

...

* * *

**...**

_For four years the battle raged on. It was a venture of new experiences for the newly-appointed king. For the first time, he was touched by hunger and by fear. For the first time, he was struck with hatred and revenge. For four long years, he fought the barbarian armies back. Many had died, but for every knight that fell five of the beasts came down with him. There, in his heart and in the hearts of the people, Prince Arthur became King Arthur and under the new king's leadership, they triumphed. Exalibur hadn't even been necessary. _

_Upon his return, Arthur first knighted several brave soldiers to take the places of those who had fallen. In the ceremony, each soldier took the name of the honorable man who was advisor to King Uther and had fallen in battle for King Arthur. _

_Sir Francis du Lancelot for his bravado in commandeering his troops in what seemed to be a lost effort in the Battle of Badon thus bringing victory to the kingdom. _

_Sir Antonio Tristam for his courage in leading a surprise attack through the Dragon's Pass and dealing a severe blow to the enemy. _

_Sir Gilbert Kay for his heroism in saving each and every refugee from the town of Tintagel and leading the retreat that saved his troops from sure death. _

_Sir Ludwig Bedivere for his intelligence in infiltrating the barbarians' base and devising the plan with which they would end the war in victory._

_Lady…Ahem…Sir Elizaveta Uriens for her strength in single-handedly destroying an entire ship of enemy troops before they landed upon the shore. _

_Sir Yao vi Gareth for his ingenuity in creating medicines and inventions that brought about the barbarians' defeat. _

_And last but not least, Sir Matthew Galahad, for while he may have entered the war in the last year, his purity of heart brought hope and light to the king's men when all had seemed lost. _

_These seven were the first knights to become a part of the great Knights of the Round Table. And there were many, many more to come to join this chivalrous alliance in Arthur's later years._

_And Alfred, dearest Alfred, true to his word Arthur had allowed the boy to fight. The boy was rather successful in his ventures and while he did not take a place at with the Knights of the Round Table, he was honored greatly by his people for his spirit and courage. Never did he fail in the final year of their last campaign, always leading his troops to victory. _

_After the war, the kingdom was in shambles. But at least it was at peace. There was still much to do, villages to rebuild and farms to restock. Yet none could complain about the new king, as he had done all he could in his power to replace all that had been lost. His loyal knights had also ensured that no enemy dared to get it in their heads to attack their country, as they patrolled the borders quite often. Yes, their realm entered a period of peaceful recovery and the future looked bright._

_It lasted for two years._

_..._

* * *

...

Arthur was now twenty-two and steadily established on the royal throne. All that was left was for him to properly be married to his long-time fiancée, Guinevere. Their relationship had not improved much over the years. What with the war and such, they hardly managed to "duke out", as the late king put it, the differences between them. But at the very least, they had grown past hurtful, childish insults.

Still trying to reorganize the kingdom, it had been decided that in the next two years, when the old "flame of love" had been rekindled, as ambassadors had put it, they would be married. Arthur could live with that. Another few years away from the she-witch? God had listened to his prayers after all.

At the moment, he was sitting at his father's…his desk in…his study. Being at war for so long, it was difficult to adjust to the new changes and the inheritance left at the castle. He was supposed to be signing some documents in order to approve of some new plans for a canal and more trading deals with the neighboring countries. Then he was to attend a meeting discussing how to better stabilize the fluctuating economy. And even that was simply more paperwork.

He pulled away, leaning back in his chair. His father had made it seem so easy, almost frustratingly so. The man had always run about, disappearing here and there at his own leisure. He didn't know how his mother could stand it, hell, he didn't know how _he_ had been able to stand it. His father had always been a do-whatever-I-bloody-want-even-if-it's-inconvenient-for-everyone-else kind of man. But he supposed the man had been doing his job. A kingdom couldn't run by itself after all.

Having had enough of all the bloody signing, Arthur decided to go down to the gardens, hoping to clear his head. That and he wanted to go check up on Alfred. Despite having been allowed the boy to fight in the previous months, he was more restless than ever. The boy was often seen dragging young Kiku, now renowned as a medic, and Matthew into the forests whenever he pleased. Honestly the boy had to learn to take better responsibility for his actions and actually think for once! Arthur sighed as he heard the telltale screams from one of the open windows.

"Oh, Arthur, there you are!" He looked up to see Elizaveta, still in her sparring armor and wearing an unnervingly wide grin on her face, "You'll never believe who I saw kissing you-know-who just now!"

"That's nice, have you seen-"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, "Alfred went down to the forest again. He's been going a lot there lately…" Her eyes took on a glazed look, no doubt imagining whatever perverse fantasies went on in her head. But as Arthur walked away, she called after him, "I'll show you the pictures of those two later then Arthur!"

The king nearly tripped on the stairs hearing that. "Pictures?!"

"Courtesy of Kiku! You can thank me later!" Arthur turned green at the thought of what _things_ the lady-knight had managed to catch along with the Oriental physician. Those two together often led to trouble and…uncomfortable situations he would much rather avoid. Running quickly down to the garden, he was met with Ludwig, the normally composed man looking angrier than he had ever seen him.

"Your highness, the young prince is-"

"I'm fine! Nothing happened I swear, Ludwig is just overreacting!" the young prince interjected. But if Arthur knew his brother well enough, he knew that the boy was guilty of something, judging by the eye twitches and stiff posture.

The strict knight gave the prince a warning look. The cheeky brat merely glared right on back. "As I was saying your highness, Alfred has been-"

"Doing nothing!" Alfred interrupted, his voice sounding a bit more desperate, "I was just playing in the woods, honest!"

But of course, there was no way the boy could get away with such a bad lie. Arthur pinned him with a glare, and the boy flinched despite being a few inches taller than the king. Not taking his eyes away from the nervous prince, he motioned for Ludwig to continue.

"Your highness, Alfred has been meeting a demon!" And the knight ripped away the book that Alfred was trying so hard to hide behind his back. "I saw him conjure it with my own eyes."

Alfred immediately went on the defensive, "He's not evil! He's a good guy!"

But Arthur didn't hear a word. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Really? He should have known Alfred was too naïve to understand any of the dangers he had been taught as a child. "A demon?" his voice shrill, "A demon? Of all things, I didn't think you were that stupid!" Alfred flinched at his voice and tried to protest, but Arthur slammed his sword onto the ground, "You fool! You never, ever think these things through! Has it ever occurred to you that this demon may very well be misleading you? That it might just be playing nice to trick you? I forbid you from ever meeting this…this beast again!"

Alfred scowled, "He's isn't like that! And you can't tell me what to do! I'm eighteen for God's sake, I'm not your baby brother anymore!"

"Oh yes you are, you infantile excuse for a knight! How can you call yourself a man when you can't even take care of yourself without messing everything up?"

"Fuck you Arthur, I've got my own free will! If I want to see him then you can't stop me!"

"Oh, I damn well can," Arthur growled, whistling, "Guards!" A whole row of men came walking down to the barracks, led by old Alistair himself. "Take the prince to his room and ensure he does not go anywhere else. One of you is to stay in his quarters and keep watch so the fool won't continue this…this foolishness!" He then took the book from Ludwig, turning it over in his hands. It was a tome covered completely in black leather. At its center was a single red jewel with a pentagram embedded into it. The devil's work.

"You can't do this, Arthur! Give it back!" Alfred pushed past the guards, trying to reach for the book. He was held back by Ludwig and Alistair, as none of the guards were strong enough to hold the prince back. "Damn it, just give it back!"

"Send the boy to his rooms. Make sure he does not escape." Arthur turned his back on the snarling prince, ignoring the curses and loud warnings from the guards. It was true. Alfred was eighteen and officially a man now. If only he could prove that he wasn't still mentally, a child. The boy needed to be disciplined, God knows that he didn't have enough of it when they were younger. He had made the mistake of babying the boy in the past, but no longer. Everyone needed to grow up. Even Alfred.

…

…

It took several days for the two to even be able to sit at dinner together again. Of course, the boy had chosen to sit at the far end of the table, away from Arthur. It had become a normal affair for his most loyal knights to sit at the dinner table with the welcome addition of Kiku and the grudging acceptance of Lovino and Feliciano, the head servant and head chef. While their gregarious personalities and jovial conversations helped diffuse some of the tension between them, it couldn't dissipate the tense atmosphere entirely.

"Ah! How can you mix that together, that's disgusting. Add this instead _aru._"

"Ve~, how cute, you guys even eat the alike! You really are good brothers ve~"

"….…..I suppose."

"What's with the long pause?!"

"Ugh, tomato bastard get that shit out of my face!"

"But Lovi, I want to eat it with you~!"

"Ohonhon, I will eat it with you Antoine, if Lovino doesn't want to."

"Not in a thousand years, bastard!"

"Kesese, you got rejected good Franny!"

"Ah! Gil, you got your sauce all over my prints!"

"Che, then that just means it's more awesome! You should thank me!"

"_B-bruder_ I don't think you should test-"

"Agh! Stop!"

"You…you…"

Arthur sighed as Elizaveta promptly began strangling Gilbert, with Ludwig trying (and failing) to get the furious woman off of him. Discreetly looking across the table, he saw Alfred had not even touched his food. In fact, he had looked more tired than Arthur had ever seen him. He was going to speak up, to ask the bedraggled prince what was wrong, but he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned towards Antonio, whispering for the man to pass the message to Kiku, who was sitting right next to the prince.

He should have known that would end in disaster. Because the "Are you okay? Maybe you should get some rest" somehow became "You're very pretty. Can I take you to my bed?"

It ended in nosebleeds, actually blood, and one gigantic misunderstanding that, by the end of the night, had Alfred in pieces from laughing so hard. Things got better. Apologies were given. And a promise was made. For the next few months, things seemed to be going smoothly.

…

…

Arthur was sparring with Francis again. Needless to say he pounded the frog into the damn ground. It felt good, having relieved some pent up stress from all the new requests and construction coming along. Recovery was ahead of schedule and business was booming. He could afford to take a break. Or so he thought. After bidding farewell to Antonio and kicking Gilbert and Francis in the gut, he walked back to his study, intent on at least halving that stack of paper, when he heard _it._

"Your brother. He is always getting in the way _da?_" The voice was unfamiliar. It was low-pitched but child-like and was accompanied by the sound of eerie laughter. The sound was coming from Alfred's room, a faint, almost indistinguishable purple light emanated from the room.

"Yeah, he kinda does sometimes. But that's just Iggy being Iggy. I'm sure he'll understand. He always does." Alfred. Alfred was talking now. And that means he was… "He's so stubborn though. I mean seriously! Does he ever-"

"Does he ever what, Alfred?" The boy flinched upon seeing his elder brother standing in the doorway.

"A-Arthur what are you-why are you here?" Alfred said nervously, standing up as if he could hide the large demon behind his back. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a normal, although slightly large, human. But those unnatural violet eyes and the witch-white hair said otherwise. The wretched book he had thought Merlin locked away was sitting on the brat's bed.

"I have a better question Alfred. Why the fuck do you have that thing in your room?" He ripped his sword out from its sheath.

"Look, look Arthur I can explain-"

"Explain what?" he said, his voice hitting hysterics, "That you disobeyed me and fucking did what I _explicitly_ told you not to do? He's a demon! He's manipulating you, befuddling your mind! Get away from that monster!" He swung the sword menacingly, not even caring that he was destroying Alfred's things in his rage.

"Ivan isn't evil! He's not what you think he is!" Alfred yelled. Then he pulled those eyes, those goddamn eyes. "Please…Arthur you've got to trust me on this…please."

But those eyes would not work on him. Not this time. "How can I trust you?" he whispered dangerously. "How can I bloody trust you?! You lied to me Alfred! You betrayed my trust!"

"Alfredka, why do you continue to try to reason with him? It is obvious he will not listen, _da_?"

"Ivan stop-"

Arthur had heard enough. He raised his sword up high and stabbed the damned book. The creature grabbed at its chest, as if in pain. Instead of shying away from the beast as he should, Alfred clung onto it. He looked upon him imploringly. "God, what the fuck Arthur?! Stop it! Just stop it, please, you're hurting him!"

"I will not stop! I should have done this a long time ago…" He picked up the book and dangled it over the fireplace.

"Arthur! Arthur stop, give the book back! Please, we can work this out, just…just stop!" Alfred sounded desperate, pleading.

The king's eyes hardened, turning back and forth from the fire to the begging prince before him. "Never." Call him heartless. Call him cruel. But he dropped it. He dropped it into the blazing fire. He pushed the boy away when he tried to reach into the flames. And the book was reduced to ash. Before he knew it, he found himself being tackled to the ground.

"You bastard!" the prince screamed, punching the king relentlessly. Of course, Arthur would take none of this lying down. Immediately, he threw his younger brother off, quickly giving a sound beating of his own.

Alfred may be taller and stronger, but Arthur had experience and agility. He quickly knocked the rebellious prince out with a swift blow to the back of the head. He didn't think he had ever been so angry in his life. To think that Alfred was still so careless…so naïve. He knew he should have scolded him more during Merlin's lectures. Boy never paid attention, and now look where it had gotten him.

Walking out of the room, he encountered Yao, who had obviously come running upon hearing the disturbance. Seeing the grim look on his king's face, the Oriental man sighed, "What happened?" The king shook his head.

"What do you think? Alfred…that fool…"

The dark-haired man sighed, looking at Alfred's quarters sadly, "I suppose, the moth only knows the dangers of the flame when it has been burned _aru._"

...

* * *

...

_For the next few months, the feud between them continued. Except this time, Alfred had not even tried to avoid the king. He ignored him, he fought with him. Their relationship deteriorated quickly to that of cats and dogs, each one spewing venom at the other. Arthur yearned for the old days, the days when they could speak to on another without it crumbling down to a fist fight, days where they could look at one another and not see disgust or hatred. The knights had tried their best to make amends, between the two, but their interference only made it worse. _

_Arthur grew bitter and angry. Alfred grew spiteful and cruel. And while the country prospered, the castle declined. The servants feared the confrontations, the fights. Camelot was no longer kind and welcoming, it was harsh and forbidding. _

_And on the day of Arthur's coronation and marriage, all the anger and frustration, all the pain and suffering, built up all these years shattered what fragile peace remained._

...

* * *

...

Arthur was determined to not be upset. At all. Sure he was being married to that woman who, while no longer called a she-witch (she was only slightly more tolerable than that), he was still getting married to a total stranger. And Alfred wouldn't be there. God why did Alfred have to be such a bloody idiot? Still angry about that devil ruining his mind? Even after a sound scolding and a long lecture from Merlin the boy continued to rebel against him at every turn. He would hole himself up in his room and only Lovino was allowed inside, if only to bring refreshment and news. Kiku and Matthew hadn't even been able to convince Alfred to at least try to be civil with his brother.

But the more they fought, the more it seemed that Alfred was no longer just angry about vanquishing the devil. He was angry at Arthur for pretty much everything. Being too bossy, being too controlling, being too stiff, being too harsh etcetera. For heaven's sake he protected him, guided him, and practically raised him! Albeit some of those years were lost in war but…But it was necessary! Alfred, the rebellious little brat, was just being difficult. Give him more freedom? Never! How could he when the boy so obviously couldn't handle it?

His mind went back into the gutter. The same arguments replaying over and over again. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. He couldn't believe it, but he supposed he probably should follow Francis' advice and relax. Probably. Forget about Alfred. Just for a moment. He looked at himself once more in the mirror, looking critically at his appearance. He was dressed in his father's old double-breasted cloak, in addition to the cravat and pendant his mother had given him. Various accolades and sashes were wrapped and pinned to his breast, the royal crest placed most prominently at the juncture where his arm connected to his torso. From there a long coat billowed behind him, a deep red with lines of gold. At his side in its sheath was Clarent, an ornamental sword used mainly for special occasions such as this. All that was missing was the crown, which would be bestowed upon him during the coronation ceremony.

A small voice in his mind wondered if he would be able to accidentally impale himself on it and postpone the wedding again. Touching the jewel encrusted hilt, he snorted. Clarent, while beautiful for formal occasions, was horribly useless and terribly flimsy. As his father had said, the only good use the sword had would be to serve as a dragon's toothpick.

Now if only he could get his hair straight…

"Don't worry about it Arthur!" The nervous king looked up to see a fairy, Iggy to be exact, hovering at his shoulder. To everyone else, the fairy was a small, glowing blue light, but to Arthur, he was an impish youth with vibrant butterfly wings. "You look great. Very dashing indeed!"

He chuckled, "Thank you Iggy. And where is your wife?"

"Oh, the old girl's down by the roses, she loves them quite a lot you know! Speaking of roses… The fairy hovered all around him, his eyes taking in every detail of his outfit. He then whipped out a single white rose and pinned it to one of the sashes draped across his chest, "There we go! Now you're perfect!"

Arthur smiled slightly, before turning away to look out the window. The servants were rushing about here and there, busy trying to make last minute preparations. God…marriage. He wanted to just throw himself out the window and be done with it. As if sensing his thoughts the fairy tugged at his hair, "Don't worry Arthur! You'll be fine, I'm sure of it! Now go on, and get the girl!"

"Alright, alright!" the king laughed, brushing away the excitable sprite tugging at his ears and hair. "I'm going, I'm going. No need to make a fuss!"

"Arthur?" He whipped his head around to see Francis and Yao standing at the door. Both of them were wearing their traditional armor as well, although they had sashes more white than red. "Oho, now is not the time to talk to your…fairy friends _mon petit_, today is the day of _romantique_!"

Yao smiled encouragingly at him, "Everyone is waiting for you, Arth…Your Grace," the knight quickly amended. While the king had allowed his knights to speak to him quite casually, it was only necessary that formalities be followed today.

Sighing once more and trying to pat down his hair, he didn't even try to kick Francis on the way out. His stomach was filled with fluttering butterflies and possibly screaming daisies. God he was nervous…Entering the altar, he could barely hide a soft gasp and marveled at his servants' work.

The church was draped in banners of red, gold, and white, each depicting the royal crest. Flowers of the every color imaginable were placed in every nook and cranny of the church, some even managing to be stuffed in the buttresses of the high ceiling. Being the afternoon, the windows lit the entire room, and the altar at the front was almost blinding with the excess sunlight.

Each and every person was dressed in their finest, all his knights dressed similarly to Yao and Francis. Merlin stood at the side, dressed in a nicer cloak than usual, and waved merrily to him. Searching the crowd, he saw Alfred, standing next to Matthew in the front pew closest to the aisle. He was dressed in almost all white, with a single red rose pinned to his chest. Turning to see him, the boy sighed before giving him an encouraging smile. He was so overjoyed to see his brother, smiling and not scowling, he didn't notice the flicker of darkness in his eyes.

Soon, the music began to play and his bride-to-be walked down the aisle. In the back of his mind, he worried the girl would trip as the dress was as long as the banners hanging from the wall. He had to admit, Guinevere looked beautiful…for a beaver girl.

And he told her as such, whispering in her ear. In response the girl shoved him playfully, muttering 'you too, eyebrow monster'. He found he did not mind the insult at all. And then they all kneeled, the bishop smiling warmly at the two as he gave his speech. "We gather here today to join these two in holy matrimony…."

And before Arthur knew it, he was saying those two little words. "I do." Guinevere did the same. There was no kiss, not yet, but they were officially man and wife now. No one cheered, everyone stayed silent, awaiting the final ceremony, Arthur's coronation to finally occur.

"Bring out the crown," the archbishop said softly. Young Peter, Arthur's youngest cousin and the crown-bearer of the occasion, stepped forward. He held Arthur's crown, a bright gold ring with three spokes that rose towards the sky.

The bishop took the crown, raising it high, "Sirs, I here present unto you, Arthur Pendragon, your undoubted King. Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homange and service, are you willing to do the same?" One by one, each of his knights, his advisors, and all members of his court solemnly swore to do so. The archbishop looked down upon him, "Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the People of the kingdom and of your Possessions and other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?"

Arthur, without looking up, spoke, "I solemnly promise so to do."

"Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?" the archbishop boomed.

"I will," Arthur said, his heart beating a mile-a-minute.

"Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of god and the true profession of the Gospel? Will you maintain and preserve inviolable the settlement of the Church and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in England?"

"All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep. So help me God."

The archbishop nodded approvingly before pulling out the Orb and the Scepter with the Dove. He placed them each slowly in Arthur's hands as he spoke the words, "In your right hand, you hold the Orb, proof of your rule as ordained by God. In your left, you wield the scepter of the Holy Spirit, proof of your power as given to you and shall forever be provided so long as you carry through His will." The bishop then pulled out a ring that he slipped on Arthur's middle right finger. "The Ring to show your responsibility to this country and to remind you that you are married not only to the one you love, but to the kingdom you devote yourself to."

Then Arthur stood up, turning around with Guinevere standing at his side. He kneeled down once more in front of the people, waiting for the crown to be placed on his head. "With the power vested in me and as decreed by the will of God, I crown you-"

The man stopped halfway, his sentence cut off by a sharp gurgled cry. He felt blood splatter at the back of his head, as the archbishop fell backward. Out of instinct, the king tried to reach for his sword, but found only an empty sheath. He looked up in horror at Alfred, standing before him with a neutral expression and holding the royal crown so tightly in his fist it was bleeding. In his other fist, he held Clarent, dripping with blood.

Everyone froze, petrified by what they had seen. "Alfred…why?" The prince offered him a hollow smile.

"You know why." The knights surged forward but were abruptly stopped by a gigantic, malevolent cloud of darkness. Out appeared several individuals, most likely demons, each one armed to the teeth. But only one stood out to Arthur. The demon. The fucking demon that started all this came walking up to them, its awful violet eyes glittering in amusement.

Alfred turned away from him, announcing to the crowd, "I denounce Arthur Pendragon! I object to his rule and pronounce him a failure as a king! As such, it is my duty to overthrow him!"

"Alfred stop this nonsense! You fool, that demon, it's tricking you!" Alfred didn't seem at all affected by his words. Instead, he turned back to Arthur, smiling cruelly.

"I don't think so Artie." His eyes darted to the knights, who had currently engaged in combat with the other demons that had appeared. But the blasted smoke was preventing them from getting close to the shocked king and frightened queen. Merlin was nowhere to be seen. "I think it's time to make our escape though, so I'll let you off this time Artie." Alfred turned to bark at the others, "Ivan, gather the others! We're escaping!"

"Of course, my king." My king? The devil deluded Alfred into believing he could become king? What the bleeding fuck?

"Alfred, that is enough!" Arthur pushed forward, trying to grab the little turncoat, but Alfred snapped his fingers. In that instant, he found that he couldn't move at all. When had the boy known how to cast petrifying spells? He struggled to get free, silently screaming the counter-spell in his mind. "Alfred…Alfred why? Why are you doing this?"

His eyes flickered, and Arthur saw flecks of black tainting those bright blue orbs, "Maybe I was tired of being bossed around by you." With a single loud snap, the demons and the smoke disappeared and the knights moved up, placing their swords against the prince.

Francis spoke first, his eyes hard, "Put down the sword, _mon prince_. It is over, you're little demon friends cannot help you here." He pushed the tip of his sword closer to the young prince's neck to prove his point.

Alfred made no move to do step down. So it was Matthew's turn to speak, "Please Alfred, don't make us do this."

No answer. "Alfred-san, we can help! If the demon is threatening you we are here to protect you. Put down your weapon!"

But the boy simply laughed. He laughed and laughed. "I'm afraid it's too late guys. I'm already too far gone." A strong gust of wind blew them all onto the ground and Arthur looked up in horror to see his brother, his baby brother, glaring back down at him with blackened irises, those pure blue eyes now gone. He ripped the air, creating a portal for himself to escape.

Arthur, now mobile once more, sat up and stretched a hand towards the prince, "Don't do this, Alfred!"

The boy looked down at him sadly, "I'm not Alfred. Not anymore. That person is…dead." His face twisted at the words, before another sad smile graced his face, "My name is Mordred. And the next time we meet, we'll be enemies. Don't you forget that." Then he jumped into the abyss. The cut in the air swiftly sewing itself up again. As if it had never existed in the first place.

...

* * *

...

_Alfred Pendragon had officially died that day and in his place, Mordred, King of the Shadows, was born. In gathering the knights together, they found Merlin, half-dead in the garden. He had tried to pursue the demons and Alfred, only to be left in near pieces. He had apologized, wished that he had seen the changes, seen the signs. But Arthur forgave him. _

_For who else was to blame but the king himself? He who pushed his own brother too far, who had not listened and spoken to the boy when he should have? _

_Oh Alfred…if I had…if Arthur had understood you. Had he seen the horrible things going on in your mind, could this tragedy have been avoided? _

**...**

* * *

**...**

**Well hi there. Again, nothing's new here, I was just splitting things up because it was starting to really, really bother me. Seriously it was like 30+ pages and that's a whole lot to swallow down in one chapter. So I finally got off of my lazy butt to go fix it rather than...you know, just smash people with a ginormous, really intimidating chapter like I did earlier. Sorry about that. But I do hope you'll enjoy this. **

**Whatever this is. Kay bye. **


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